


you're sunlight in my bones when i'm all out of hope

by bobbismrses



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, F/M, Post-Divorce, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbismrses/pseuds/bobbismrses
Summary: "Bobbi?" he hisses as soon as he opens the door and finds her on his doorstep, hair mussed and cheeks tinged pink from the cold. "Th'fuck are you doing here?""It's good to see you too, Hunter," she retorts with a roll of her eyes and Lance huffs, more tired than angry, and definitely too sober for any of this.





	you're sunlight in my bones when i'm all out of hope

**Author's Note:**

> i might add a chapter two to this, like the morning after, but nothing's sure
> 
> fic title taken from palms by allman brown

One down, five to go.

 

Lance pulls a second beer out of the cardboard pack on the table in front of him and bites down onto the metal cap hard enough to pop it open. He chugs half of the bottle in one swig, face contorting as the liquid makes its way down his throat, and he makes a mental note to go out and buy something stronger later, something strong enough to knock him out for the night.

 

There's a sudden string of knocks on the door and Lance curses under his breath, hanging his head and closing his eyes. "You must be fucking kidding me."

 

He gets to his feet and heads to the door, not even bothering zipping up his hoodie, flashing skin and scars and a patchwork of shapeless, smudged bruises.

 

"Bobbi?" he hisses as soon as he opens the door and finds her on his doorstep, hair mussed and cheeks tinged pink from the cold. "Th'fuck are you doing here?"

 

"It's good to see you too, Hunter," she retorts with a roll of her eyes and Lance huffs, more tired than angry, and definitely too sober for any of this. 

 

"Still doesn't answer my question."

 

He knows how late meetings with his ex-wife can end up– with them, panting and breathless, fucking each other's brains out until exhaustion, or with a whole lot less of talking and a lot more of screaming and blaming and slamming doors. He isn't in the mood for any.

 

"Izzy," Bobbi admits a bit sheepishly, folding her arms across her chest. "She told me what happened."

 

Lance barks a harsh laugh and scrubs a hand down his face. Now, he's pissed. Izzy's the one who found him, drunk and passed out on his bathroom floor, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. "Well, maybe Izzy should learn to keep her mouth shut."

 

"She's worried about you," Bobbi counters gingerly, the concern in her voice only matching the one etching her features. "She's not the only one."

 

"Oh, cut the crap, Bob," Lance spits out with a bittersweet chuckle, words burning around his throat and heavy on his tongue. He speaks out of hurt, not truth, and doesn't give her any reason to stay yet he'd hate to see her go.

 

Bobbi nods, setting her lips into a thin line and concealing a tight, bitter smile. She didn't come here to fight. "Can I come in?"

 

Lance brings his beer to his lips, downing what's left of it in one swallow, and opens the door wider so she can hobble through, a surge of warmth instantly flowing through her. She stops only inches away from him, eyes studying the bruises scattered across his side.

 

"Did you get that check up?" she frowns as she skims her hand over the reds and purples on his side, pressing and prodding expertly. Lance snorts a laugh but it quickly turns into a wince. "That's what I thought."

 

"You should have seen the other guy," he shoots back but all the smugness and cockiness quickly disappears from his face as the thought of it awakens memories he's been trying so damn hard to repress. Bobbi sees the change in him, the way his nostrils flare and the muscles of his neckline stiffen, and her face softens into something that's only ever for him.

 

His knuckles are bone-white around the doorknob as he slams the door shut behind Bobbi and stomps back into the living room where he plops down on the couch with a pained grunt. Bobbi watches him seize another beer and she feels a sharp, nasty, all too familiar pang in her heart. This is what the last weeks of their marriage were made of; heartache and late nights and cheap alcohol.

 

"Can I have one of those?"

 

Drinking together is better than watching him lose himself at the bottom of a bottle alone.

 

"Suit yourself," he mumbles glumly as he lifts the new bottle to his lips, tilting his head back and taking a gulp.

 

Bobbi pulls a beer out, twists the cap off and takes a first swig, wrinkling her nose at the bitterness of it. Definitely not her favorites. She peels off her jacket and sits next to him, absentmindedly picking at the label on the bottle.

 

"He died," Lance says suddenly, his words barely above a whisper, and Bobbi looks up, sinking her teeth into the inside of her cheek as she waits for him to go on, careful not to push him. "Bled out in my arms."

 

Something went wrong, awfully wrong, and he lost one of his closest friends.

 

She's heard.

 

Lance stares down at his hand and can still feel the slick, hot blood coating his fingers as he applies pressure on the wound of a person who was no longer there.

 

"He had a boy," he goes on, the words escaping from his lips before he can even try and stop them. "James. He couldn't see him a lot that often because of the job but he took him to a baseball game last week. Bastard wouldn't stop bashing our ears about it."

 

He laughs and Bobbi knows it's not entirely genuine but she laughs with him anyway.

 

"It should have been me," he croaks out, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically as the words get stuck in his throat, and Bobbi frowns. "It was going to be me."

 

Bobbi heaves a deep sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut as the dots connect together. "He saved you."

 

"Son of a bitch," Lance curses in an hushed tone, shaking his head and letting his chin sink to his chest as if the guilt upon him suddenly became too heavy to carry.

 

"Look at me," Bobbi orders softly, reaching up one hand and cupping the nape of his neck. "Hunter, look at me."

 

Lance twists his head around to look at her, eyes glazing over blankly, and her composure almost crumples. He's wearing the guilt of a hundred soldiers and the pools of unshed tears in his eyes hurt like a sucker punch to the stomach, or maybe two.

 

"He made his choice. It wasn't your fault."

 

She doesn't say anything about the sick, stomach-turning feeling she felt in her gut a few days ago, the same one she gets every time he's in danger. She doesn't tell him about what she would've done if it had been him, she doesn't want to think about it either.

 

A few tears break loose and Lance springs forward, carelessly setting his beer on the table next to hers and crashing his lips against hers in a wet and bruising and oh-so needy kiss.

 

"Hunter–"

 

"Please, please. I need this, I need you," he whimpers like a wounded animal before slanting his mouth against hers again, Bobbi tasting his tears on his lips. " _Please._ "

 

"Lance." His name falls from her lips like a prayer and he finally looks up, eyes bright and heavy. She cups his face in her hands and strokes her thumbs over every inch of skin she can reach; his lips, his chin, his cheeks. Nothing is verbally said, yet nothing remains unsaid. Lance breathes in deeply and buries his face in her neck, sobs racking his entire body. "I've got you, baby. I've got you."

 

He's always a mess when he keeps shit bottled up.

 

Bobbi lays down on the couch and pulls him on top of her, clumsily kicking off her boots and wrapping her legs around him to keep him as close as possible. She only allows herself to tumble into slumber when she's sure he's fast asleep, his breath tickling her neck and his muscles relaxing under her touch.

 

Tonight, for the first time in a while, they're home.


End file.
